


Good Omens Christmas Special: The Church of Saint Crowley

by Writer_of_Words88



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 300 - Freeform, Christmas, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Complete, Cute Kids, Demon, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Myra - Freeform, Saint Nicholas - Freeform, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Terrible Demon, Turkey - Freeform, angel - Freeform, church, saint - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 09:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20580551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_of_Words88/pseuds/Writer_of_Words88
Summary: Aziraphale finds Crowley in a state of utter distress. He fears all is lost, and by morning, he will be gone from this world. The angel must piece together what horrible atrocity has happened to the demon, or the more likely, what atrocity has Crowley brought upon the world?Crowley--"I did...I did something horrible, angel...No more wine and nice music, or flowing robes and dance parties. All of it, gone. I'll lose it all, even you."Author Note:***Okay. I know it is nowhere near December, but  I got this idea in my head that I couldn't get out until I wrote it down. I hope you enjoy it!! ***





	1. In the End

**Author's Note:**

> Good Omens FanFic Timeline:  
Pre-Canon:  
The Pharaoh’s Son – Egypt 14th Century BC  
An Angel in the Brothel – Pompeii 62 AD  
A Long Way from a Miracle – Italy 217 AD  
Christmas Special: The Church of Saint Crowley – Turkey 300 AD  
The Devil’s Favor – England 1066 AD  
War Times – England 1941 AD
> 
> Post-Canon:  
The Bachelor Party – 2019 AD
> 
> Separate GO AU FanFic:  
Halloween Special: Sleepy Hollow (Human AU)  
Ineffable Prompts  
Instagram Prompt

**Myra, Turkey 300 AD**

Aziraphale had thought more than once about snapping his fingers and appearing in the maritime city of Myra. Yet, the idea of simply popping up and risk blowing his cover simmered the temptation instantly. It didn’t help that when it happened, it was not reasoned to be the work of the divine or angels or anything of the sort. So, there he was, plotting along on the back of a pale stallion.

Its incessant hoofbeats had clopped down the dirt road for the last four hours. And, it was four hours too many in his opinion. Its golden coat shimmered in the setting sun and had been nicknamed by passersby as the “Golden Horse.”

The angel hadn’t meant to gather so much attention during his travels, but over the few millennia, he had wanted a ride a bit more liking to his style. Palominos were close, however still not quite what he had wanted, and thus, he may have shifted the hue of one once or twice to shimmer just a tad more than the rest.

It had earned him a rather nice place in the good graces of the current Arabian prince and had let him influence much of their court over the years. So, he had considered the alteration a worthy indulgence.

The scent of salt and ocean swirled around him as he crested the ridge. Lamps like a sea of stars glittered down below along the shore. He let out a sigh of relief, realizing he had reached the city. Aziraphale squinted against the harsh glare of the fading sun. The mountainous region had been hard on him and his steed, yet with a few light miracles, they had managed the week’s journey without too much trouble. His gaze lingered on the boats in the harbor, idly wondering what sort of delectable treats had been unloaded from their cargo holds. It had been some time since he’d enjoyed a boiled fish stew or a steaming pot of clams. The thought of either renewed his vigor from the tiresome journey.

“Onward, old boy,” he tutted to the horse.

Yet, the large beast stamped its hooves and refused to move. Aziraphale knitted his brows together. Sunshine, as he had grown to call the stallion, hadn’t ever disobeyed him so readily before. The angel clicked his tongue, trying to signal them forward, but again, the horse refused.

Something moved on the road. It had slunk close to the ground and moved in shifty agitated thrashes. Aziraphale dismounted, keeping his eyes on the creature writhing in front of them.

“Wait here,” he whispered.

Sunshine pawed the earth and trotted to the edge of the road to nibble on the thin reeds of grass.

“Glad to know you have such confidence in me, old boy.” The angel returned his gaze to the prone form. Rays of fading sunlight glared into his eyes, forcing him to raise his hand as he strode forward.

The creature gleamed in the diminishing red light, giving it a devilish appearance as it coiled in the dirt. Aziraphale sighed with a small smile and knelt, dusting his long robes with earth from the path. “Hello there,” he cooed, calling to the snake.

Its eyes seemed to glow in the twilight of the evening as it fixed its gaze on him.

“Don’t worry, dear. It must be quite unpleasant with the ocean breeze.” Aziraphale stretched out a hand. “Come. Let me warm you up, poor thing. No need to be alarmed.”

The snake stared at him, flicking its tongue in the air. The angel sighed, worried the poor beast would refuse his help. It was one of God’s creatures, after all. Though seeing the wandering reptile did bring a fond smile to his lips.

The snake slithered forward, still flicking its tongue as it approached. Aziraphale let it slide nearer at its own pace. Animals rarely enjoyed being picked up on a first encounter, so he simply waited as the smooth scaly creature slithered over, pressing its head into the angel’s outstretched hand.

“See now, dear. That’s better.” He hadn’t realized just how big the snake had been against the glare of sunlight. Its slender head took up most of his palm and then some. It flicked its pointed tongue once more, then glided up the angel’s arm. It wound around his back and arms before resting its head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. It shivered against the unrelenting wind.

The angel had been right. The unfortunate beast sought warmth and had probably sensed him coming up the road.

The snake curled tighter around him, though it seemed to be seeking warmth more than having malicious motives.

Aziraphale lifted his hand and rubbed his fingers along the creature’s soft scales. “There, see. I told you everything was alright. Why don’t you ride with me for a bit, just until you warm up?” The snake squirmed a little, but the angel chuckled, soothing him with gentle strokes of his hand. “Don’t worry. I seem to have a blind spot when it comes to mistrusting wily serpents.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” hissed the snake.

Aziraphale jumped, then blinked at the piercing yellow eyes. “C-Crowley? Is that you?”

The serpent curled closer to him and seemed to let out a sigh. “Yes. It’s me. Do you do this often? I mean the whole pick up random snakes and talk to them like they’re lost puppies. I think I should be offended.” He shivered again.

Aziraphale huffed out an impatient breath. “Why didn’t you just tell me it was you? And, this form? If you were a human with proper clothes, then this weather wouldn’t be nearly as dreadful for you, dear.”

“Yeah, well. Long story, so why don’t we go somewhere and talk for a bit. You know, maybe somewhere with a nice bottle of wine or something. I could use a bit of a pick-me-up. It’ll probably be the last bottle I ever get to taste; funny how it all works out in the end.”

The angel stared at him. “What are you talking about, you mad demon? Did something happen?”

The snake buried its head behind Aziraphale’s neck and into his short blond curls. “I did…I did something horrible, angel. Something so unforgivable that they’ll call me back to Hell; I’m sure of it. No more wine and nice music, or flowing robes and dancing at parties. All of it, gone. I’ll lose it all, even you.”


	2. The Saint and the Demon

The angel could hear the sorrow seeping from his words. Even if snakes couldn’t articulate emotion well, Crowley was doing a hell of a job at it.

Aziraphale hesitated for a brief moment before giving himself a firm nod. “Alright, then. Let’s get you warm first, my dear. Then, you can tell me all about it. I dare say that if anyone is going to be able to help, it will be me. We have known each other for a very long time after all.”

As the angel turned back to his horse and mounted up, the serpent seemed oddly quiet. Aziraphale had expected some witty retort or jab at whatever he had in mind. This worried him more than any of Crowley’s other antics. Whatever had happened was serious, perhaps serious enough to make Aziraphale worry about his ability to help. Or, was it serious enough to make him question more? That thought plagued the angel for the next hour until they came upon an inn at the edge of town.

As they stabled the stallion, the angel ran his hand along the scales of the snake. “I think it’s best you change back now. Don’t want to upset the locals, dear. We can talk inside by the fire. I’m sure they’ll have one near the back of the room.”

Smoke churned the air from the nearby cooking fire from inside the inn. The angel hadn’t visited this region in some time, but even if he was wrong about the hearth, he was sure he could alter it if necessary. He huffed at himself. Crowley seemed to make him wobble along the edge of a cliff, where one side held glorious divine light and the other side, well; it was best not to dwell on it.

The snake shimmered, growing in size, and shifted into a slender man with long black robes. Crowley stood behind the angel with his arms wrapped around him. The demon’s skin appeared prickled, and he seemed close to spasms with the number of shivers coursing down him.

Aziraphale turned to look at him, then grasped his hands tightly. “My dear, you look positively dreadful. I had no idea you were in such a wretched state. Please, let’s get you inside. I can hear all about this mess once we’ve composed you again.”

Crowley gave a noncommittal, “Nghh.”

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and wrapped a large fur cloak around him. “Don’t worry,” he repeated again and again. “We simply must get you inside and warm.”

The demon’s glinting yellow eyes scanned over him before he pulled down the hood of the cloak. “You seem actually worried for me, angel. If I were something other than a demon, I’d be touched. Perhaps an aardvark. They can feel things, right?”

Aziraphale shushed him as they entered through the main door. Waves of heat greeted them, dragging out a sigh of relief from Crowley.

The angel spotted a table near the blaze of the hearth and shuffled them over to the chairs. He eased Crowley into one before returning to the bar and ordered their drinks. He tipped the nice man after the beverages had been poured. Aziraphale still couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever his Adversary had done would be something that would have detrimental repercussions. Perhaps, even change the world as they knew it. He knew Crowley was a demon, but he was different somehow. The idea that he’d…he’d what? Killed a man? A village? Had he tempted humanity into the worst war in history?

The theories spun out of control in his mind as he placed the cups down on the wooden surface. Aziraphale pulled his chair closer to Crowley, so they could speak without alarming the other patrons. He hoped whatever the demon had to say wouldn’t lead to riots in the streets or worse, Armageddon.

Crowley pushed back his wavy dark hair and down the cup before licking his lips. His eyes glittered as he stared into the fire. He almost appeared to welcome their insatiable heat as though he wished to discorporate on the spot.

Aziraphale couldn’t stand it any longer. “Please, Crowley. I beg you. Tell me what has happened.”

The demon shuttered and snatched the angel’s cup and took another swig of wine. Aziraphale didn’t care as long as it helped the demon come out of whatever state of panic that bound him.

“I did it, angel,” he groaned. “I did the worst thing a demon could do. The worst thing I could imagine, possibly even worse than I could’ve imagined.” He gave a bitter chuckle. “I didn’t see this coming, at all, and we’ve been here for how long, now?” He didn’t wait for a response. “It’s all over. I can’t recover from this, angel. I’m done for. You should get out of here while you still have a chance.”

Aziraphale spat out a sharp exhale before reminding himself that patience was a virtue. “Crowley, I know you’re upset. I understand that, and I want to help you. But, I can’t do anything with your vague words and drunken ramblings.”

Crowley eyed him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been kind to me, Aziraphale. I’m not sure anyone has ever treated me like you do, and I’ll always remember it.”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” the angel hissed.

Crowley sputtered on his drink and eyed him.

“Will you please get a hold of yourself, you idiot, and stop wallowing long enough to explain to me what in the devil is going on here?”

Crowley huffed out an exasperated breath. “Not a devil, but a saint. A saint is what’s happening here.”

“Ah, yes. Well, I had heard there was someone here who could achieve such an honor. That’s why I’ve been galloping on the back of that beast for the last week.”

The demon turned an eyed him suspiciously. “Hang on a moment. Are you here for him? Did your higher-ups tell you to come and bless the saint or something? The bastards.”

“Of course, they did, Crowley. It’s been a while since Heaven has had such a noble candidate for the title.”

Crowley covered his mouth with his hand. “Oh, G–Somebody. I think I’m going to be sick.”

The angel rubbed his back. “Well then, send it away. I still have no idea what is going on, and quite frankly, I am getting tired of your unwillingness to be forthcoming.”

“Yeah, alright. For all the bloody good it’ll do.” Crowley straightened and rolled his shoulders.

Aziraphale sensed a shiver of power from the demon as he washed away his unease that threatened to spill out.

Crowley sighed and met his eyes, steady for the first time that night. “I need you to promise me first, angel. Promise me you won’t do anything until I’ve told you everything. No judgments, no smiting, no pep talks, until it’s all on the table.” He swigged another drink of wine.

“Oh, come on. You know I’m not going to smite you.” Aziraphale had just about enough of this talk to become agitated. “But, Crowley, if you don’t spit it out soon, I’m going to leave and not speak to you for a hundred years.” He raised his chin in agitation.

“Alright, alright, angel. Another round first?”

“Crowley!”

“Yeah, fine. But, before I start, and don’t hate me for this, but what did they tell you about this so-called saint?”

Aziraphale quelled his desire to shake the confounded demon, then decided to play along for the moment. “Well, if you must know, there’s nothing ‘so-called’ about him. I mean, he’s really as good as the stories proclaim as far as Gabriel and the rest of Heaven is concerned. That’s why I’m here to bless and guide him.”

“Gabriel?” Crowley hissed. “As in your boss, is convinced this man…is a saint? Wait, stories? What kind of stories?”

The angel glared at him but answered anyway. “I don’t know what this has to do with it, but yes, there are quite a few stories. Some say he goes around giving toys to children at night while they sleep. There is one where he saves a family by giving the father a large amount of gold when he feared he would have to resort to selling his daughters into, um, prostitution. There is also one about the man cutting down a tree possessed by a demon, but I’m not sure of its reliability. However, my favorite must be him saving a group of innocent men from execution. I mean really, and he did it all while exposing the bribes and extortion in the city’s government. It’s been so long since humanity had such a great example of the kindness one’s heart can possess. I really have been quite eager to meet him. I heard they are making him the bishop of the church tomorrow. It’s just so exciting.” He paused and eyed Crowley, who had started banging his head on the table. “What is wrong, dear? I mean…you, you didn’t, um, kill him, did you?”

Crowley hissed in annoyance and returned an enraged stare to the unsuspecting angel. “No, I have not killed the people’s saint, or savior, or whatever.” He spat the words from his mouth with utter disgust in his voice. “I’ve tortured the bastard for years, and for what? I tried to make him evil; I tried to make him Hell on Earth, but no. We can’t have that, can we? Had to go and muck things up until I can’t get out. Me and my bloody ideas.” He sunk in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. “You know, angel. Maybe it is a good thing you’re here. When I burn to a crisp tomorrow, you can be there to toss some holy water on me and finish the job.”

Aziraphale had had enough. He grabbed the demon’s shoulders and forced him to look him in the eye. “Crowley, I don’t know what is going on, but I can assure you that whatever it is, I am not going to help you commit suicide, and that is final.” The angel may have edged a bit too much righteous fury into his last few words, but not knowing what had happened was driving him mad. “Now, tell me, with one simple sentence what you have done.”

Crowley rolled his head and met his eyes. A small familiar smirk crossed his lips. It brought some minor relief to the angel. Then, the demon leaned forward and whispered, “Aziraphale, this holier-than-thou saint of yours. Did they happen to mention his name?”

Aziraphale blinked. “Well, no, why?”

“Because it’s me, angel.”


	3. Saint Crowley

“It’s what? Why…that’s preposterous. I don’t believe it for one—”

“It’s all me. All your damn stories, there all about me. I was the one giving toys to the kids, well I mean, not really giving them out. I just,” he sighed and ground his teeth. “I started working here, in the city, as a carpenter to, you know, blend in.” He waved his hands. “I ended up making little wooden boats and carved animals. And, I mean, what the hell am I going to do with a bunch of carved birds and fish and such. So, I’d just throw them into open windows at night on my way home. I didn’t think anything of it until now, but I guess they thought I was giving them away. And then that whole mess with the daughters was kind of my fault. I mean, you know how it is for work; I tempted her father, he wound up broke and was going to sell the girls. They weren’t even twelve, yet, and I mean I’m a monster, but still, they were kids. So, I tossed in a couple of bags of coin through his window, he caught me, so I tried to threaten him into silence, but that seems to have backfired. The bloody tree was just Hastur being a bloody pain in the ass, so I may have chopped down the tree he was hiding in to scare him back to Hell. And the rest,” he puffed out an exasperated breath. “It was all a misunderstanding, I mean, I was the one who tempted those pompous government types in the first place. And those men they tried to have killed all had kids at home with no wives and no one to look after their families. Some were just babies. I’m not going to leave a bunch of babies lying about with no dads around to look after them. I’m a monster, not a heartless bastard.”

Aziraphale paused. He didn’t speak for so long that Crowley had enough time to refill their cups and finish about half of his, then the angel laughed.

Aziraphale couldn’t contain it any longer. He chuckled. He giggled. He doubled over almost falling from his seat from the copious amount of hooting and cackling that spewed from his throat. The angel had never heard something so ridiculous in his entire existence. There was no way, no possible, conceivable way, that the saint, the patron of children, merchants, and pawnbrokers could be…well, could be a demon or even Crowley. It had to be all some sort of jest. He met the demon’s hard stare and wiped a few tears from his eyes. His fit of giggles seemed to subside for the time being. “That’s,” he floundered for words. “That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard, and we’ve been here since the creation of the Earth.”

Crowley sipped on his wine. “Now, you see why I have a problem. I can’t report this. I can’t go back to Hell in my nice shoes and be all smiles. I’ll be dunked in holy water if I’m not already tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“The welcoming party for the new bishop. Haven’t you been listening, angel? Those damn, bloody bastards at the church mistook all of my evil deeds, and now they want me to be the bishop to their church. You understand that, right? You understand that I have to walk,” he threw his hands up to emphasize the audacity of it all. “I have to walk into a church like it’s nothing. No big deal. Just waltz across consecrated ground and, oh, here’s a dash of holy water, sir. Hope you like it. Do you know what will happen when I burst into flames tomorrow? I’ll be the laughingstock of both Heaven and Hell.” He drummed his fingers on the table and flicked his tongue obviously annoyed at the whole debacle.

“My dear boy, why, you can’t be serious. There is just no way a demon can be given the title of saint. Now, if you please, end this jest so that we can enjoy our wine. I simply have no desire to play along with you any further.” He chuckled before bringing the cup to his lips.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny,” Crowley spat. “You’ll get a front-row seat tomorrow. You can bring little bits of fish or perhaps a slab of meat to roast on my flaming corpse once the ceremony starts.” He pushed his cup away, apparently tired of even the wine.

Aziraphale placed a hand on his shoulder. “If this all really is true, then I’m sure this whole mess will blow over in no time, my dear Crowley. If they are expecting you their tomorrow, then why not I take your place. I mean really, I’m already on assignment here. Indeed, I seem to have a knack for guiding myself from bad habits.” He smiled, and Crowley’s face beamed as bright as the divine radiance.

“You mean it? You’ll stay here. Oh, G–Somebody. You have no idea what this means to me. I thought I was a goner this time, angel. Even if I popped off, those buggers in the city would come looking for me to the end of the Earth.” He let out a weighted breath and rested a hand on the angel’s arm. “Whatever you need next time. I mean it. Hell, I’d even do a few miracles in your place if you’d do this for me.”

“Yes, well.” Aziraphale straightened his collar. “All in a day’s work, I suppose. I’m sure I can keep up appearances for a few years. I still can’t believe how this all happened. I heard in cities all the way here of children hoping you’d visit and bring them gifts at night. You really have made a mess of things, my dear.”

“I know, I know.” He reached for his cup again, appearing much more well off than before. “It’ll all blow over in a few years I imagine. I doubt they will even remember me in a few hundred years. Probably have a church named after me or something.” He shrugged, staring into the fire.

“The Church of Saint Crowley?” Aziraphale tried hard to keep a straight face.

The demon spat out a hiss. “No, no, not that. I was trying out a new name. Thought it would work, but I guess I’ll have to give that up too now.”

“A new name?”

“Yeah,” Crowley groaned. “Nicholas.”

“So, if they do name the church after you, it will be the Church of Saint Nicholas?”

“Yeah, but I doubt it’ll last long,” Crowley mused taking a last swig of wine. He rummaged in his pocket before placing something on the table next to the angel.

Aziraphale blinked and picked up the trinket. “What’s this?”

Crowley shrugged, “Just one of my carvings I forgot to get rid of. You can keep it or get rid of it if you like.”

Aziraphale turned the tiny carved snake over in his palm. It was the same shape as the tattoo on the side of the demon’s face. The angel smiled. “It’s beautiful.”

Crowley glanced away and grumbled, “Ah, shut up, angel.”

Aziraphale beamed and placed the carving in his robe’s pocket. “Well, I best get ready for tomorrow. Should be a nice day to be made a bishop. I’ll need to prepare a speech.”

“Oh,” Crowley groaned, “I don’t think that’s necessary. I know you; you’ll make promises that would take miracles to keep, angel.”

“Like what?”

“Like, I don’t know, giving presents to kids all over the world or something. Just promise me you won’t overdo it.”

“Alright, dear,” Aziraphale huffed. “I promise.”


End file.
